I'erje  Viken 


Henrik 


FROM  THE  NORWEGIAN 

BY 

H.  F.  ROSING 


TERJE  VIKEN 


COPYRIGHTED 

BY 

H.  F.  ROSING 
1917 


HENRIK  IBSEN 


TERJE  VIKEN 


Translated  from  the  Norwegian 

By 

H.  F.  ROSING 


MINNEAPOLIS.  MINN.. 
1917 


TERJE  VIKEN 


There  lived  a  man,  one  grayhaired  and  queer, 
On  the  outermost  isle's  barren  sand, 
He  never  did  harm,  none  needed  him  fear 

Neither  on  sea  or  on  land. 
At  times  though  his  eyes  with  a  fierce  light  shone, 

Though  most  on  a  stormy  day, 
Then  people  preferred  to  leave  him  alone, 

And  few  had  the  courage,  then  to  have  gone 
In  Terje  Viken's  way. 

Later,  I  saw  him  again,  once  more 

With  fish  by  the  pier  he  lay, 
His  hair  was  white,  but  he  sang  as  of  yore 

And  was  like  a  youngster  gay, 
To  the  lasses  he  spoke  a  jesting  word, 

With   village   children  he'd  play, 
He  swung  his  sou'wester  and  sprang  aboard, 

Then  hoisting  his  jib  sailed  home  like  a  Lord, 
In  sunshine,  old  Eagle  gray. 

2029031 


6  TERJE  VIKEN 

And  so  what  I  heard  to  tell  I  will  try, 

Of  him  from  beginning  to  end, 
And  if  it  at  times  should  seem  rather  dry 

The  truth  to  it  color  will  lend, 
Though  by  his  own  lips  'twas  not  to  me  told, 

But  by  those  who  stood  by  him  near, 
When  breathing  his  last  and  with  hands  growing  cold, 

His  eyes  shone  no  more  as  they  had  done  of  old, 
He'd  long  passed  his  sixtieth  year. 

In  his  youthful  days  he  was  wild  and  bold, 

Left  young  his  parental  board, 
He  also  was  known,  so  his  comrades  told, 

As  the  youngest  boatswain  aboard. 
But  after  deserting  in  "Amsterdam", 

For  home  then  pining  at  last, 
He  came  with  "Foreningen"  captain  "Pram", 

But  no  one  knew  him  that  stood  in  the  jam, 
As  the  little  boy  of  the  past. 

Now  he  had  grown  both  manly  and  strong, 

Was  well  dressed  and  fair  of  face, 
He  found  his  parents  had  been  dead  long 

And  also  the  rest  of  his  race. 
A  day  or  two  he  sat  brooding  around, 

To  the  wind  then  sorrow  he  gave, 
No  peace  and  no  comfort  on  land  could  be  found, 

It  was  better  on  shipboard  and  outward  bound, 
On  the  Ocean's  surging  wave. 


TERJE  VIKEN 

A  year  thereafter  and  Terje  was  wed, 

They  said  in  great  haste  'twas  done, 
He  quickly  repented  at  thus  being  led 

To  stay  home  and  bask  in  the  sun. 
In  his  own  little  place  he  lived  by  the  way, 

One  winter  and  did  carouse, 
The  windows  there  shone  as  bright  as  the  day, 

With  curtains  so  small  and  flowers  so  gay, 
In  the  little  red  painted  house. 

When  the  ice  was  loosened  by  sunshine  bright 

Terje  went  in  brig  out  to  sea, 
The  gray  goose,  when  in  its  swift  southward  flight, 

On  his  voyage  back  he  could  see, 
Then  fell  a  sad  weight  on  the  sailor's  breast, 

Though  feeling  both  young  and  strong, 
He  returned  from  a  coast  by  sunlight  blessed, 

Behind  the  ship's  stern  lay  pleasure  and  jest, 
'Fore  the  bow  a  cold  winter  long. 

They  dropped  the  anchor,  his  mates  went  ashore, 

With  leave  on  land  to  carouse, 
His  longing  glance  followed  them  as  of  yore, 

As  he  stood  by  his  little  house, 
Then  peeking  in  behind  curtain  so  white, 

He  saw  in  the  cottage  two, 
His  wife  spinning  flax  looked  up  with  delight, 

And  in  her  crib  lay  so  smiling  and  bright, 
A  small  girl  babe  to  him  new. 


8  TERJE  VIKEN 

.Then  'twas  Terjes  temper  more  gentle  grew, 

His  pleasure  and  joy  was  deep, 
He  toiled  and  worked,  but  no  weariness  knew, 

When  rocking  his  child  to  sleep, 
On  Sunday  evening  when  dance  music  rang 

Wild  from  the  neighbor  house  there, 
His  merriest  songs  at  home  he  then  sang, 

When  his  little  Anna  on  his  lap  sprang, 
And  pulled  at  his  dark  brown  hair. 

'Twas  nearing  the  time  of  the  warring  year, 

Of  eighteen  hundred  and  nine, 
They  yet  can  tell  of  the  anguish  and  fear, 

That  made  the  Norse  people  pine, 
By  English  cruisers  each  harbor  was  locked, 

On   land   crop   failure  and  want, 
Neither  rich  nor  poor  had  their  larder  stocked, 

To  powerful  arms  all  labor  was  blocked, 
At  the  door  starvation  stood  gaunt. 

Then  thoughtful  was  Terje  a  day  or  two, 

To  wind  then  sorrow  he  gave, 
He  remembered  a  friend  so  old  and  true, 

The  great  ocean's  surging  wave, 
In  the  west  has  yet  his  signal  deeds  life, 

As  legend's  most  daring  feat, 
When  ocean  waves  rolled  in  little  less  strife, 

Terje  Viken  rowed  for  his  child  and  wife, 
In  an  open  boat  his  seat. 


TERJE  VIKEN 

The  smallest  boat  that  he  there  could  find, 

He  chose  for  his  "Skagen"  race, 
He  left  both  mast  and  sail  behind, 

He  thought  so  best  for  his  pace, 
Thought  Terje  that  so  his  boat  would  him  bear 

Though  by  wind  and  waves  'twas  cast, 
From  "Jutlands"  reef  'twould  be  hard  to  steer  clear, 

But  harder  from  English  man-o-war  near, 
With  eagle  eyes  in  the  mast. 

So  now  defying  ill  luck  he  would  go, 

His  hands  gripped  the  oars  so  fast, 
And  "Fladstrand"  he  reached  without  much  ado, 

Prized  cargo  in  boat  he  cast, 
God  knows  it  was  all  that  he  could  afford, 

Three  barrels  of  barley,  no  more, 
He  took  only  enough  to  save  life  aboard, 

He  cared  not  for  himself  provision  to  hoard, 
'Twas  for  wife  and  child  ashore. 

Three  nights  and  three  days  at  boat  seat  held 

That  brave  and  powerful  one, 
On  the  fourth  morn  a  dim  line  he  beheld, 

Through  fog  at  rising  of  sun. 
It  was  not  a  flying  cloud  he  saw  through, 

There  were  mountain  peaks  and  dells, 
But  higher  than  other  mountaintops  grew 

Imenes  Saddle,  so  wide  and  blue, 
To  him  the  right  course  it  tells. 


10  TERJE  VIKEN 

Within  a  short  time,  sight  of  home  will  him  thrill, 

With  endurance  nearly  at  end, 
But  with  faith  and  hope  his  heart  is  filled  still, 

He's  near  asking  God  strength  to  send, 
Then  it  was  words  on  his  lips  seemed  to  freeze, 

He  stared,  he  did  not  see  wrong, 
Through  fog,  that  soon  is  dispersed  by  the  breeze, 

A  cruiser  in  Hesnes  sound  lay  at  ease, 
He  sees  it  and  hears  sailor's  song. 

His  boat  they  sighted  and  signals  they  made, 

Now  closed  is  his  nearest  route, 
But  the  wind  at  sunrise  began  to  fade, 

So  Terje  to  west  turned  about, 
They  lowered  the  yawl  from  the  gunnel  in  haste 

He  hears  the  sailors  singing, 
But  with  both  feet  hard  against  boatrib  braced, 

He  plied  his  oars  and  with  such  power  raced, 
That  blood  from  nails  was  springing. 

"Gaeslingen"  'twas  called  where  a  blind  reef  rose, 

Little  east  from  "Homborg"  sound, 
There  waves  break  wild  when  the  land  wind  blows, 

Where   shallow   water  is   found, 
There  it  spouted  white,  and  yellow  it  shone, 

On  ocean's  most  pleasant  day, 
Though  outside  the  reef  the  ocean  may  moan, 

Within  there  is  always  a  peaceful  zone, 
Where  the  breaking  wavelets  play. 


TERJE  VIKEN  11 

Therein  Terje  Viken's  small  boat  went, 

Like  an  arrow  'tween  wind  and  wave, 
But  after  him  came  by  fifteen  men  sent, 

Their  boat,  which  to  keelwater  clave. 
Then  again  calls  Terje  through  breaker's  loud  noise, 

To  God  so  hard  he  is  pressed, 
He  cries  with  anguish  breaking  his  voice, 

My  wife  is  starving  she  has  no  other  choice 
.She's  waiting  with  child  at  her  breast. 

But  louder  than  he  yelled  the  fifteen  behind, 

As  at  "LyngpY"  so  it  is  here, 
For  English  men's  luck  is  certain  to  find 

Their  quarry  by  Norway's  coast  near, 
Then  Terje  turned  on  the  reef  his  prow, 

In  the  shallow  their  yawl  also  stuck, 
In  it  an  off'cer  stood  in  the  bow, 

He  called  "Stop!"  then  threw  an  oar  at  the  scow, 
And  it  in  the  bottom  struck. 

It  broke  through  the  bottom  rib  and  plank, 

The  water  spurting  in  streams, 
In  two  feet  of  water  dear  cargo  sank, 

Still  Terje  defiantly  screams, 
He  broke  through  the  ring  of  the  well  armed  men, 

Over  bulwark  of  boat  he  sprang, 
He  dove  and  swam,  and  dove  once  again, 

They  got  their  boat  loose  and  where'er  he  turned  then 
There  sabers  and  bullets  sang. 


12  TERJE  VIKEN 

They  fished  him  up  and  brought  him  aboard, 

The  cruiser  gave  victor's  salute, 
In  stern  on  cabin  proud  as  a  Lord, 

Stood  the  chief   an  eighteen  year  youth, 
This  battle,  his  first,  was  with  Terje's  scow, 

He  scarce  could  pride  hold  in  check, 
But  Terje  was  praying  and  begging  him  now, 

That  home  to  proceed  he  would  him  allow, 
He  lay  on  his  knees  on  deck. 

He  paid  with  his  tears,  they  him  laughter  sold, 

And  at  his  prayers  they  sneered, 
When  the  wind  from  east  came  on,  blowing  cold, 

This  brave  son  to  England  steered, 
Then  Terje  was  silent  for  now  'twas  done, 

His  sorrow  he  kept  in  his  heart, 
And  those  that  had  captured  this  Norway's  son, 

Could  see  him  their  jeering  and  laughter  shun, 
So  they  from  him  kept  apart. 

They  kept  him  in  prison  many  long  years, 

It's  said  'twas  five  very  near, 
His  neck  was  bent  down  and  gray  hair  appears 

From  dreaming  of  home  held  dear, 
His  sorrowing  heart  would  not  give  him  ease, 

His  mind  seemed  to  wander  afar, 
Then  came  eighteen  hundred  and  fourteen,  with  peace 

And  all  Norse  captives  and  Terje's  release, 
They  sailed  home  in  a  Swede  man-o-war. 


TERJE  VIKEN  13 

When  home  he  reached  and  stepped  on  the  pier, 

With  King's  patent  and  pilot's  pay, 
Then  only  few  knew  the  grayhaired  man  here, 

Who  went  a  young  sailor  away, 
His  home  now  a  stranger's,  could  they  still  be  safe 

That  here  had  been  left  alone, 
When  the  husband  had  gone  and  no  one  help  gave, 

They  perished  of  hunger  and  slept  in  one  grave 
In  community  poor  folk's  zone. 

In  years  now  passing  great  was  his  repute, 

As  pilot  on  outermost  isle, 
His  intentions  were  good  that  none  could  dispute, 

He  met  ev'ry  one  with  a  smile, 
At  times  though  his  eyes  with  a  fierce  light  shone, 

Though  most  on  a  stormy  day, 
Then  people  preferred  to  leave  him  alone, 

And  few  had  the  courage  then  to  have  gone 
In  Terje  Viken's  way. 

One  moonlit  night  when  wind  blew  on  land, 

Came  life  in  the  pilot  crew  glib, 
An  English  yacht  they  saw  near  at  hand, 

With  reef  in  mainsail  and  jib, 
From  the  top  of  the  mast  a  red  flag  flew, 

A  cry  for  help  without  word, 
But  inside  there  came  a  boat  now  in  view, 

It  tacked  against  wind  that  in  hurricane  blew, 
The  pilot  stood  calm  aboard. 


14  TERJE  VIKEN 

He  seemed  so  sure  this  grayhaired  man, 

Like  a  knight  to  the  rigging  he  clung, 
The  yacht  now  steered  away  from  the  land 

And  its  boat  behind  it  swung. 
The  Lord  and  Lady  with  child  on  her  arm 

Came  aft  and  the  Lord  did  say, 
I'll  make  you  so  rich  that  life  will  you  charm 

If  you  carry  us  safe  from  the  breaker's  harm — 
But  pilot  dropped  helm  and  stay. 

His  cheek  grew  pale,  he  had  now  reached  his  goal 

His  revenge  at  last  he  had  found, 
Then  in  they  steered  and  high  on  the  shoal 

The  splendid  yacht  stood  aground. 
"It  failed  to  mind  helm.     In  the  boat  I  command, 

My  Lord  and  my  Lady,  obey ! 
'Twill  break  in  pieces,  death  is  near  at  hand, 

Inside  we  soon  will  in  smooth  water  land. 
My  keelwater  shows  yon  the  way." 

St.  Elmo's  fire  shone  where  the  boat  now  flew 

Toward  land  with  cargo  so  dear, 
In  the  stern  stood  the  pilot  strong  and  true, 

His  eyes  shining  so  wild  though  clear. 
He  glanced  to  leeward  tow'rd  Gaeslingen's  top 

And  to  loward  tow'rd  Hesnes  strait, 
He  let  go  both  helm  and  stay  sail  strap, 

He  swung  an  oar  with  the  wide  blade  up 
And  trust  through  boat  bottom  straight. 


TERJE  VIKEN  15 

In  came  the  sea  with  a  soughing  sigh, 

Then  ceased  on  the  deck  a  fight, 
The  mother  lifted  on  her  arm  so  high 

The  daughter,  with  fear  grown  white. 
"Anna  my  child,"  she  cried  in  her  woe, 

Then  trembled  the  grayhaired  man's  knees, 
He  caught  in  the  stay  and  let  the  helm  go 

And  the  boat  was  stayed  like  a  bird  there  slow 
Before  caught  in  the  whirling  seas. 

It  turned,  it  sank,  but  the  ocean  was  smooth 

Inside  in  the  breaker's  lee, 
The  water  was  shallow  and  so  forsooth 

It  only  reached  to  the  knee. 
The  Lord  then  called,  "I  feel  the  reefs  back, 

It  trembles,  there  is  no  relief !" 
The  pilot  said  smiling,  "You  surely  faith  lack, 

A  sunken  boat  with  barley  in  a  sack 
Is  holding  us  now  on  the  reef." 

Then  a  half-forgotten  memory  came, 

Like  a  flash  impression  it  made, 
He  knew  the  sailor,  this  one  was  the  same 

That  on  cruiser's  deck  had  prayed. 
Then  shouts  Terje  Viken,  "You  held  in  your  hand 

All  mine  that  I  had  on  this  earth, 
You  gave  it  for  glory,  revenge  is  at  hand 

Bend  your  knees,  English  Lord  so  proud  in  your  land, 
To  pilot  of  poor  Norse  birth." 


16  TERJE  VIKEN 

Terje  stood  leaning  on  oarhandle  there 

As  straight  as  in  youthful  years, 
The  wind  was  rumpling  his  graysprinkled  hair, 

His  eye  full  of  fire  appears. 
"You  on  your  cruiser  in  great  splendor  sailed, 

I  rowed  in  my  small  boat  near, 
I  labored  so  hard,  my  strength  nearly  failed, 

You  took  my  dear  one's  bread,  no  prayers  availed, 
You  met  my  plea  with  a  sneer. 

Your  wealthy  Lady  is  fair  as  the  spring, 

Her  hand  is  like  silk  so  fine, 
My  wife's  coarse  hand  still  caress  did  me  bring, 

And  she  was  my  own,  yes  mine, 
Your  child's  golden  locks  and  dark  blue  eyes 

Like  Our  Father's  own  small  guest, 
My  darling  was  nothing  to  look  at  twice, 

She  was  as  God  made  her,  thin  and  small  size, 
Like  a  poor  man's  child  at  best. 

See,  that  was  my  wealth  upon  this  green  earth, 

It  was  all  I  could  call  mine  own, 
It  seemed  to  me  more  than  riches  and  birth, 

Though  as  naught  to  your  heart  of  stone. 
But  now  the  back-payment  time  appears 

And  now  shall  you  feel  at  last 
The  anguish  I  felt  in  five  long  years 

That  bent  my  neck  and  kept  my  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
The  years  that  in  prison  were  passed." 


TERJE  VIKEN  17 

The  child  he  caught  and  swung  it  clear, 

His  left  arm  round  the  Lady's  waist. 
"Back,  back,  my  Lord  a  step,  you  come  near, 

And  I'll  drown  them  both  in  haste." 
The  Briton  stood  ready  to  at  him  spring, 

But  his  arm  seemed  weak  and  light. 
His  breath  was  like  fire,  in  his  eyes  a  sting, 

And  his  hair  that  was  like  a  raven's  wing 
Turned  gray  in  a  single  night. 

But  on  Terje's  forehead  shone  peaceful  light, 

His  breast  heaved  calm  and  slow, 
He  set  the  child  down,  her  fear  gone  quite, 

And  he  kissed  her  hand  also. 
He  breathed  as  though  from  prison  set  free, 

His  voice  sounded  even  and  mild, 
He  said,  "Terje  Viken  himself  seems  to  be, 

'Till  now  ran  my  blood  like  a  torrent  to  sea, 
For  revenge,  for  revenge  I  was  wild !" 

"The  long  painful  years  in  prison  ran  up, 

In  anguish  I  could  only  weep, 
I  sometimes  seemed  on  a  mountain  top 

Looking  down  in  an  abyss  so  deep. 
But  now  it's  o'er,  we  it  even  will  call, 

What  you  owe  it  can  not  be  paid, 
I  gave  what  I  had,  you  took  from  me  all, 

I  revenge  should  have,  but  'twould  be  so  small, 
I'm  the  way  God  has  me  made." 


18  TERJE  VIKEN 

/ 

Each  man  was  saved  at  the  breaking  of  day, 

The  yacht  into  harbor  came, 
Of  the  tale  of  the  night  none  a  word  would  say, 

But  far  traveled  Terje's  fame. 
The  dreams  of  a  night  so  stormy  and  gray 

Were  forgotten  in  morning  fair, 
Once  more  carried  Terje,  straight  the  old  way 

The  neck  that  was  bent  when  lowly  he  lay 
On  the  cruisers  deck  in  pray'r. 

Now  came  the  Lord  and  the  Lady  as  well, 

With  them  came  a  great  many  more, 
They  blessed  him  and  shook  his  hand  in  farewell, 

They  stood  in  the  home  by  the  shore, 
They  thanked  him  for  rescue  when  stormy  winds  blew, 

For  rescue  from  ocean  and  reef, 
But  Terje  stroking  the  child's  hair  anew, 

Said,  "This  is  the  one  who  has  rescued  you, 
So  surely  is  my  belief." 

When  the  yacht  was  passing  by  Hesnes  sound, 

Then  Norway's  ensign  they  flew, 
A  little  more  west  where  white  caps  abound 

With  salute  they  bid  adieu, 
Then  shimmered  a  tear  in  Terje's  eye 

As  he  gazed  out  from  the  height, 
"Much  I  have  lost,  but  I  gained  thereby, 

So  maybe  it  was  best,"  he  said  with  a  sigh, 
"And  I  thank  Thee  God  in  Thy  might." 


TERJE  VIKEN  19 

So  it  was  I  saw  him  again  once  more 

With  fish  by  the  pier  he  lay, 
His  hair  was  white,  but  he  sang  as  of  yore 

And  was  like  a  youngster  gay. 
To  the  lasses  he  spoke  a  jesting  word, 

With  village  children  he'd  play, 
He  swung  his  sou'wester  and  sprang  aboard, 

Then  hoisting  his  jib  sailed  home  like  a  Lord, 
In  sunshine  old  Eagle  gray. 

Near  Fjsere  church  a  grave  can  be  found, 

It  lies  in  a  wind-swept  place, 
It  has  no  care,  'tis  a  sunken  mound 

Where  a  black  painted  board  you  face. 
The  name  "TH^RIE  WIIGHEN"  is  painted  in  white 

With  the  year  when  rest  here  he  found, 
Here  he  lies  in  rainstorms  and  sun's  strong  light, 

And  wild  flowers  there  in  coloring  bright 
Among  the  coarse  grasses  abound. 


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